Sometimes the Truth Will Not Set You Free
by Vedra42
Summary: Sequel to Sometimes the Name Makes All the Difference. Hermione Granger was dead, she was Sarah Connor now, but her passing wouldn't come without a price. She had once been told never to mess with time and now she was just being to understand why. Hermione Granger was dead, she was Sarah Connor now, she didn't know who she was anymore...what she was capable of...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world or Terminator. Some dialogue borrowed from the second Terminator movie.

Ch. 1

One thing that she had never gotten use to was the humidity. The sweltering heat and moisture in the air always left cloths clinging to the body covering it with sticky sour sweat. Never letting you feel clean.

It was getting harder and harder to even remember what the cold felt like. What snow felt like. The tingle her nose got in the presence of frost. The chill of the wind whipping through her hair while running about playing in the newly fallen powder. Ice creeping up the windows of the castle.

The warm wood of her wand as she-

No. That was all gone.

The cool steal of a firearm was all she needed now. Not some long forgotten dream.

Her eyes flew open, sleep instantly gone as her body detected an unfamiliar weight pressing down on her chest. Trapping. Smothering. Confiding.

It was an arm.

Alert she slowly turned her head and noticed the body it was attached to.

Current lover number, whatever.

This one a member of the cartel, like most of the others around. Although a bit further up the food chain than the previous ones she had taken to her bed. It was easier to stay with the criminals, they lasted longer and were less willing to ask questions as long as she carried her weight. The rebels were always changing, each ready to martyr themselves for the cause and the government officials always wanting to make reports to superiors.

It was the way things worked down here and she needed to stay off the ever growing Grid.

She found someone she needed. Someone with some skill that John needed to know. If they needed some more persuasion, she wasn't opposed. They would shack up for a few months, and then she would move on.

Her heart had long grown cold for the need of a companion. She even could convince herself that the memory of Kyle could no longer make her cry.

What did that make her?

It didn't matter.

John was everything, their only hope. Her whole life. He would have all the training she could provide. Nothing would stop her. She had always been single minded with any goals she had, this was no different.

She would make him into a solider. Make him capable of the tasks he would one day face.

God. He was growing up so fast.

He began to crawl, then walk, then run. Always moving. Always asking questions she wasn't prepared to answer.

He was so curious. Just like she had been at that age.

She didn't want to lie, but how could she tell him the whole truth. Stories of his father, the hero were easy. Telling him of the destruction to come, a necessity.

Opening up about her childhood and a world of magic, impossible.

She had watched and waited for the signs. Anticipation and dread twisting her stomach as the years passed.

But nothing. It never came.

Her boy would never be a wizard. He had no magic.

It saddened her that they would never have that connection even if she wasn't really a witch anymore. At the same time she was relieved that one more complication could be avoided. Crossed timelines, sending John to school with a young Hermione and the impending rise of Voldemort didn't bare thinking about.

Awful things happened to wizards who meddled with time.

What would happen to her? What would her price be in all of this? Those questions haunted her in the early hours. Plaguing her with self-doubt.

Was this really for the best? Changing her boy into a solider for a cause he didn't really believe in. She was so harsh on him. She had to be.

He thought she was crazy with her stories of machines from the future.

Sometimes she could almost agree with him.

What happened to the girl who went through life with a plan for everything?

The rational creature who was logical and clearheaded. When had her nightmares begun to haunt her day?

Reality had slowly begun to slip away as the years passed. She was no longer cautious with her stories doom. The knowledge was shared with anyone in the area willing to hear. They whispered of her madness. The crazy gringa with her stories of the End Days.

What could she do? She had to at least try.

The day finally came when the heat became too much. She had made one too many enemies amongst the gun runners and the DEA was becoming an increasing risk to her many contacts. It was time to head back to the States before something happened.

Back to a simple life of a small time waitress just trying to make ends meat. A single-mom in one backwater town after another.

Always moving, always watching.

John began to realize his childhood wasn't a normal one.

Her days were tormented by the progress around her. The Information Age was here. Computers were becoming increasingly prevalent and she knew it wouldn't stop, remembered what the future held. Technology was on the rise.

It would keep rising with no stop. Build momentum. Crush them under a wave of programs and megabits bent on their destruction.

Every second of everyday drew them closer to the end. She couldn't let it happen. It had to stop. She had to stop it.

She had to try.

After all there was no fate, but what she made of it.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world or Terminator. Some dialogue borrowed from the second Terminator movie.

Ch. 2

When she turned ten her mother took the day off from work, pulled her out of school, with too much protest on her part, and they went out for a shopping day. It was a special time. One of the last moments of true mother-daughter bonding they had before magic crashed into their world and she became a stranger to both of her parents.

For John's tenth birthday she was allowed to send a personal letter after it was determined she wouldn't use the pen to harm herself or others. Four guards still had to be there, just in case.

They had locked her into solitary confinement for the first three months after the trial while the doctors conducted an initial assessment. Apparently they really didn't like people who blew up computer factories.

Often depressed. Displays a high amount of anxiety. Paranoid delusions. Prone to violent outbursts. Repeated escape attempts.

Recommend to be restrained and sedated. Observation and therapy to be conducted by Dr. Siberman.

The months blurred by. The dreams were coming more and more frequent. No she wasn't crazy. They were making her crazy with their confiding white walls and drugs and guards who didn't want to keep their hands to themselves. Bastards.

No one would listen.

And the children kept burning before her eyes. Every night. Blasted apart like leaves. The entire city vaporized.

She had to get out of here. The time was ticking closer and closer. They were back on the grid, there for anyone to find. Something was going to happen.

She paced. She planned. In frustration she knocked over her bed and did her normal pull-up routine. Up. Down. Up. Down. Letting the burn take over. Keep moving, keep thinking. She wouldn't let them break her, she wasn't going to let them medicate her into oblivion.

She could hear his voice lecturing his new crop of students. It was time to be a lab rat again. Thinking back she felt sorry for her friends' actions when they had met Neville's parents all those years ago, it sucked to be observed as nothing, but a disorder. As something broken.

They gapped at her through the window as he explained how fascinating her case was. Wasn't she just so captivating.

"Good morning Sarah." He was way too cheery. Something had to be done.

"Good morning Dr. Siberman. How's the knee?"

His smile faltered at the reminder of the incident. Moron.

The therapy session was today. It had been six months since he had thrown down the challenge. Given her a goal to work toward.

He made her watch the earlier video.

Obviously she was crazy. No she no longer believed Terminators were out to kill her son. She had shown them improvement. Couldn't she be transferred to the minimum security wing now?

"Here's the problem I know how smart you are. I think you are telling me what you think I want to hear. I don't think you really believe what you are telling me today. I think if I put you in minimum security you'll just try to escape again."

No. Fuck him. They had to let her see her son.

The patient was becoming agitated. Time to be taken away.

She would give him agitated. He didn't even see her coming. They tackled her and she fought back, but there were too many.

"Son of a bitch. You're all going to burn. You're dead. Dead. I know what happens."

Oh, how Ronald would laugh himself silly if he could see her now. Hermione Granger swearing like a drunk sailor. No, not Hermione, Sarah she was Sarah. No wonder they thought she was crazy if she couldn't keep her identities separate.

She was Sarah, now and forevermore, they had no reason to think otherwise, her fake ID having become much better over the years. Although to see their faces if she dropped the All-American girl accent.

Thrown back into her little room they brought out the drugs. Four guards had to force her down.

The restraints didn't stay long. The police wanted to ask some questions. Who is the man who shot up the West Highland Police Station all those years ago?

Her blood ran cold.

She didn't react. Old photos of that thing, and then the new ones. He was back and John was missing. The foster parents were dead. They wanted her to help them. Still no reaction.

A little sleight of hand and she had a paper clip. Lead back to her cell and was restrained once again.

The metal was hidden then spit out onto her chest. Twisting for the correct angle. Click.

She removed the belly strap. A little contortion and teeth freed the wrists. The door was harder, but still quick work.

The footsteps of the night guard gave warning. She surprised him with a broken broom handle to the head before dragging the pervert into her room. Teach him to keep his hands to himself.

Slinking down the hall. A sprint forward, a toss of the keys was all the distraction there was. Several blows to the stomach and a crack to the skull and the guard was out. Siberman cowered, the fool. She brought her weapon down just to hear the sickening crack. A broken arm was the least she could give him.

Some cleaner and a syringe held to the pathetic man's neck. She had a hostage.

Would she or wouldn't she. The artery was so close, just a little push.

They let her through.

An idiot guard tried to get the jump on her. He got a smashed nose. A couple doors and a broken key. She ran.

He turned the corner and she slide to a stop. No. The familiar face which had haunted her for years. No. Time slowed as she scrambled backward. Fleeing backwards the guards tackled her. No. They had to let her go. He'll kill us all.

Then he stopped him.

Slamming them into the window, wall, ground. Suddenly John was there with his quick embrace and familiar smell. She couldn't react to the hug still frozen by the presence of the thing. Why wasn't it attacking?

It was here to help?

An echo from the past. "Come with me if you want to live."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world or Terminator. Some dialogue borrowed from the second Terminator movie.

Ch. 3

Footsteps were approaching. A cop. No, it was something else.

It melted through the bars.

It was like a boggart a creature without shape, taking on the vintage of her nightmares.

What was it?

Another horrifying invention of the future. Coming to once again destroy her son.

_Bam._ She grabbed John and ran for the elevator as the Terminator held it off. The doors began to be pried open by this impossible new thing._ Bam_. It warped and staggered, but didn't stop, it would never stop, molding back into its form.

It was on the roof. The old enemy now an ally fired into the ceiling. She faltered as a skewer sliced down her back. Holding a gun she returned fire.

The minutes ticked by and they arrived in the garage. A car. The man wouldn't move so she fired a warning. Pilling into the police cruiser, it took the wheel.

The crack of gunfire was constant. The world flew by in reverse, whipping hair into her face as she leaned out of the car until the clip ran out. It kept coming running at an increasing speed.

"I'm out."

John reloaded like the good solider he was. Constantly firing, she didn't miss. The Terminator was relentless with his own fire, blowing huge holes though the thing. Exiting the garage they spun before the gas was once again punched, jerking them forward.

"Hang on…"

They were flying, faster and faster. It jumped onto the truck with spikes for arms, slicing through the seat. Glass rained down. _Bam._

"Here drive."

She grabbed the wheel. Taking aim he fired, and fired, and fired. It fell, tumbled and stopped. With a flick of his wrist John tossed the last remnant away.

Silence settled as they sped through the night with no light to mark their way.

Oh, God John. She scanned him with her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Yea."

For a moment she was split between what to do. First she looked at the machine, but she couldn't deal with him yet.

Turning she focused once again on John. Urging him forward her little boy fell into her arms. She had missed him so much, but now wasn't the time. Detaching herself from all emotions she ignored the urge to keep hugging him. Instead she ran her hands over him checking for injuries. His answer didn't matter. She had to make sure.

He pushed her away.

"I said I was okay."

No emotional attachments. She was a solider, she couldn't stop. He had to understand.

"John it was stupid of you to go there. God damnit. You have to be smarter than that. You almost got yourself killed. What were you thinking? You cannot risk yourself even for me. Do you understand. You are too important. Do you understand?"

It was Harry-Fucken-Potter all over again.

"But I had to he get you out of that place. I'm sorry."

Her heart clenched. He was so young still. So much like Harry at that age, but unlike him she couldn't allow him the luxury of a saving-people complex. He was a leader, a General and sometimes others needed to be sacrificed for the greater good.

"I didn't need your help. I can take care of myself."

It was harsh, but necessary. She was the mother, she could take care of herself. He had to learn that. He had a destiny and she had to make sure he was ready for it because if he failed then it would be her fault. That she didn't try hard enough. That she didn't train him enough. That she let him die and the rest of the world with him. It wasn't fair, but that was the way things had to be.

"What is wrong with your eyes?"

Her attention was directed to the mirror at the Terminator's question spotting John's reflection. A single tear escaped before being wiped away.

A wave of self-hatred passed through her.

"Nothing."

A quick stop to an abandoned station. It patched up her back. Just another in a long line of scars, so many scars, from both lives marred her skin.

She prided the bullets from its skin making sure it could still pass for a human, it was useless hunk of junk otherwise. A quick smoke, she had finally picked up the habit. Another car was stolen.

Night turned into day.

They kept driving. She directed him south. John attempted to teach it slang.

They stopped for gas and food. A couple kids played with toy guns. John looked at the machine for answers.

"We're not going to make it are we? People I mean."

"It's in your nature to destroy yourselves."

_An ocean away a group of teens rushed through shelves of glass orbs, each the exact same as the next. They were searching for a friend, a godfather, answers for questions which still alluded them. Every step unknowingly taking them closer to their first real battle in a war of hatred._

_The oldest of the group, a girl of sixteen held her wand aloft, illuminating the empty aisle ahead where a man should lay. The space was examined and a name, Harry Potter, caught the eye._

_Laughter. They had been discovered._

_She bought everything down on their heads, smashing glass a background accompaniment to their headlong flight._

_Leaving no one to watch as a single orb labeled Hermione Granger, Sarah Connor splintered under the weight of a falling shelf._


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world or Terminator. Some dialogue borrowed from the second Terminator movie.

_Ch. 4_

_It was time to know. Her curiosity could only be contained for so long. She began the interrogation, questioning it about Skynet._

_Miles Dyson. Cyberdyne Systems Operations. Military computers. Skynet Funding Bill. Self-aware. The attack on Russia, the counter-strike._

_2:14am August 29, 1998_

_The end._

_Hermione Granger had missed it by less than a month. Now Sarah Connor would have to live through it. If she even made it to that day. Kyle told her she died before the war leaving her teenage son to face it alone._

_Again the fate of the world was in the hands of a teenage boy._

_Why did children always have to save the day?_

_She could feel the seconds tick by each one bringing her that much closer to the end._

_On a dusty road to nowhere stood a fence decorated with rattlesnakes. They parked and waited. A standoff reunion with old friends. Thank God for the tequila. Just call the machine Uncle Bob, amenity was the name of the game._

_She needed her stuff, cloths, food, one of his trucks. No she didn't need his fillings too. Enrique was pissed, but he owed her several._

_She always planned ahead whether it was a beaded bag or a secret cache. Weapons check was the first priority._

_The Terminator and John helped to fix the engine. They would have to wait til dark to cross the border._

_They kept talking, she didn't know what about. He was smiling, joking, showing it how to give a high-five. She couldn't even remember the last time her boy had done that. John was like Hermione when she was that age, looking for the best in everyone and everything. _

_Trying to see the good in every 'dark' creature, surly Potions Master or irritable house elf around, but she wasn't Hermione anymore and that thing wasn't, couldn't be given a chance. It was a machine, with no concept of emotion. _

_It made him smile._

_She was a terrible mother._

_Watching John with the machine it was suddenly so clear. The Terminator would never stop, it would never leave him and it would never hurt him. Never shout at him or get drunk and hit him or say it was too busy to spend time with him. It would always be there and it would die to protect him. Of all the would be fathers who came and went over the years this thing, this machine was the only one who measured up. In an insane world it was the safest choice._

_The knife carved the message into the table without thought. No Fate._

_Tired. She was so fucken tired. Just a few minutes rest._

_A sunny day at the park. Children playing. Blinding light, an explosion. A wave of destruction. Everyone on fire. _

_She woke._

_She had to go. It wouldn't stop, never stop, unless she put a stop to it now._

_Dressed in black she piled her stuff into the trunk. Never stopping, never looking back._

_She drove off. John's shouts echoed in her ears. He would be safe and she could end it before it had even begun._

_Her boy deserved to have a future without the constant threat of Skynet._

_She was not Dumbledoore. She would not sit by and let destiny have its way. Let a child be their savior._

_Night fell. Lights came on in the house. She could see him sitting at his computer. Each stroke bringing them all the closer to the brink._

_Miles Dyson. _

_She finally had a name. Over a decade of searching. She could finally put a face to the reason she and her son were hunted. Why they were never safe._

_It would end tonight._

_The little red dot found its mark._

_Just a breath and genteelly squeeze the trigger. A little pressure._

_Fuck. He moved. The computer shattered. Quickly she let loose several rounds as he ducked out of the way._

_Reload. More fire. Crack, crack, crack, crack, crack, crack. Out again._

_She could hear shouting from within. Dropping the now empty gun she stood, strode forward past the pool keeping her eye on the target. Ducking out of the way he ran. Stumbling, tripping, dodging. Another missed shot._

_She had him. Then running out of nowhere the kid providing the perfect shield._

"_Don't hurt my daddy!"_

_What was she doing? She was a monster, but she couldn't stop. He had to be stopped. One life to save billions. One life and her son would be free._

_He was everything she hated. He was just an ordinary guy._

_It was all his fault._

_He had a family…a wife, a son._

_He was the reason her life was this way._

_The pool of blood was slowly getting bigger. He was shaking with the pain of a slug to the shoulder._

_Everything was just so wrong. What was wrong with her?_

_He had to be stopped. But he had done nothing wrong. He hadn't done anything. _

_Yet._

_He was an innocent._

_Starring into his eyes she couldn't do it. Stumbling away she slid to the floor. She couldn't pull the trigger. She was still Hermione-Fucking-Granger at heart, the girl who believed in the goodness of others and protected the innocent._

"_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_How had she come to be like this?_

_The tears were a surprise. _

_She hadn't even known if she could still express emotions other than anger and hate. Then John was there. Her little boy comforting his mess of a mother. Coming to stop her. What had she done to him? How could she possibly have raised a boy like him? Who was strong and compassionate. When she was just a broken waste of space._

_She was broken. Had been broken. Was still broken. Would forever be broken._

_Broken wand._

_Broken time._

_Broken mind._

_She let down the walls and they hugged as the machine went to check the damage that had been done. She had to tell him, he needed to know_

"_I love you, John. I always have."_

_Focused on her own swirling emotions she didn't notice the demonstration at first. They wanted to know who they were, why they had broken into their home? John handed the machine a knife as he hustled the kid out of the room. A quick slice and a rip exposed the mechanical hand to the shocked his audience._


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world or Terminator. Some dialogue borrowed from the second Terminator movie.

A/N: Sorry about the delay in putting up this chapter. I was distracted by a new story idea and work on my New Life Series, which hopefully will be up midway through next week.

Ch. 5

Perched on the kitchen counter she lit up a cigarette, let the smoke dance through the air and watched the computer scientist have his world crumble.

Dyson listened while the Terminator laid it all down. Skynet. Judgement Day. The history of things to come. It's not every-day you find out you're responsible for the deaths of three billion.

He took it well.

Wanted to throw-up.

Good.

It meant he was still human enough to care. He needed that, the disgust, the gut twisting guilt, the drive to change it. He thought they were judging him for things he hadn't done. He had done them.

How were they supposed to have known?

Idiot. What did he think his research could have possibly lead to?

It was men like that that built the H-bomb, men like him had thought it up. All his kind did was create destruction and death.

John's yelling made her verbal abuse stop They still had to stop it from happening. The research couldn't be left for others to figure out. The files, disks, the lab everything would have to be destroyed.

He told them of a smashed chip they had stored in a vault. Radically advanced. The one from the first Terminator that had come for her all those years ago.

Son of a bitch.

Of course they had it. She knew it. It had all been a cover-up all those years ago.

They had been told never to ask where it came from. They didn't know how to get it to work, but it gave them ideas. Oh, the ideas.

It was all a fuckin self-fulfilling prophecy.

Just like Harry.

Voldemort would have never gone after a fuckin baby if it had never been for that prophecy, and if he had never heard the prophecy Harry couldn't have been able to defeat him. Never received that God-damn mark.

Skynet would have never been built if it hadn't sent back a Terminator to kill her and failed. She would have never had John, its destroyer, if Kyle hadn't been sent to save her from that same Terminator.

Could he get them in? Yes, now.

A quickly drawn out plan. Supplies. They left with their new ally.

_The future always so clear to me had become like a black highway at night. We were in uncharted territory now. Making history as we went along._

It had been too long since she had felt like her destiny was her own. She had raged against it. Tried so hard to stop the end, give her son the world. Even then she had known that it was most likely futile. Now they had a chance.

Night cloaked their approach. The cement structure towered above them.

Marching in they were met with the security guard. The cover story didn't work so the guns were brought to play. John restrained the man with some tape and they got in the elevator. Hustling they went through one key carded door to the next.

Red light. Denied.

Shit.

The silent alarm had been hit and Dyson's card would no longer work. For the first time the man began to panic calling to abort. She calmed him. John began to hack his way into the area where the second key for the vault was stored. They focused on the lab.

The Terminator used his own key. She called out the warning.

"John! Fire in the hole."

The blast ripped through the door and the alarms began to blare. Gas spilled out crawling over the area, dancing with the ignited fires. The Terminator retrieved gas masks.

Setting the explosives was accomplished quickly. The remote detonator would take a bit longer.

John ran into the room to warn them. The police had arrived, in mass.

The machine went to go take care of that with a promise he wouldn't kill them. The sounds of gunfire were deafening even from the other room. She could recognize the fire of one weapon, then the next, then the next. Silence, followed before the return fire came.

She continued to splice wires and hook up the CU. The boys went to retrieve the chip and mechanical hand.

Finished everyone began the retreat. Dyson grabbed the detonator before the backdoor blew apart.

The police opened fire and she hit the deck. The bullets ripped through Dyson. She watched as he slumped to the floor blood once again blooming across his chest. The constant hail of fire made sure she couldn't reach him. With one look he told her what he planned.

Running and dodging fire she retreated. Pinned down, she was saved by the metal bastard crashing through the wall. Another came down with a blast and they had a new door.

They crashed into the elevator just in time.

The blast shook the whole building. Dyson had given them just enough time to get to safety before letting the trigger go.

Another death on her head.

They came to a stop and the door opened.

A canister of tear gas was released and she used the gas mask to cover first John then herself. Calming her heart beat and breath she took a couple of lung fulls before handing it back to John. She could hear the Terminator as it faced the police firing squad. Then the screams came as one after another officer was incapacitated.

Looking out of the elevator she could see a new cloud of tear gas distract the officers before a metal SWAT van smashed its way toward their position. Grabbing John she ran with him to the vehicle.

The Terminator plowed its way through the barricade.

John hid under a pile of bullet proof vests at her instructions while she loaded the guns. The chopper was following them and she just knew it had to be that liquid metal monster, masquerading as a cop.

Crack, crack, crack. Bam. Crack, crack –Bam. Bam. The wind whipped through her hair as they raced down the highway. Crack. Bam. Crack, crack. Weaving. Dodging.

She kept of firing.

It was gaining on them. Hovering just above the road. Its floodlight blinding.

Pain burst through her leg as a bullet lodged itself in her thigh, no atrial hit.

The thing rammed into them before it lost control. The chopper slammed into the cement and slid. Fire engulfed the frame and the explosion ripped through the night sky.

The Terminator tried to regain control of the van as it swerved. The crash rocked through her entire body as they overturned.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world or Terminator. Some dialogue borrowed from the second Terminator movie.

A/N: Sorry about the delay in putting up this chapter. I have just started a new job and am getting use to a new schedule, hopefully I will adjust soon and find the time to finish these stories.

Ch. 6

Disorientated she lay stunned. It hurt to breath and she could feel the warmth of fresh flowing blood coating her thigh.

Focus, she needed to focus.

It wasn't time to stop.

Getting to her feet was difficult for her overworked muscles. John scrambled over and helped her get up. The Terminator wrenched the metal away to let them stumble out. The helpful bystander ran at the sight of the metal skeleton showing through the machine's skin.

It was quite.

Movement caught her eye.

The truth was speeding toward them.

Her heart began to speed up. Shit. It was still coming. They grabbed the first vehicle they could reach. The Terminator once again punched the gas and the chase continued.

The bleeding was getting worse. Fuck, it hurt. John grabbed some rags and shirts to create a compress to tie on. They wove through traffic. The thing kept gaining on them.

The blow to the back knocked them forward. Jarring her injury. They turned left to avoid another blow. Another smash came from the side.

Sparks flew.

It was trying to force them off the road. They were pinned. The grinding metal was piercing.

A swift move and they were freed for the moment. The Terminator had John seize the wheel as he hung out the door. _Bam_. The truck swerved as the shot met its mark.

"Take the off ramp."

The vehicle jerked at John's sudden move. The truck wasn't so lucky and hit the divider, but soon recovered. More gun shots. It kept coming. Once again they were rammed.

No longer in control of the vehicle it kept pushing them along.

The chain link fence burst apart as they slammed into it. They were speeding up.

She watched as the Terminator crawled onto the truck and began to fight the thing. The truck lost control and overturned and slide. It kept plowing forward and she ordered John to keep going strait. They crashed into a wall.

The factory workers fled as the liquid nitrogen chamber burst, spewing its contents everywhere.

Shaking in both pain and from the impact she turned her head to watch. The Terminator had been thrown out of the way of the super-cool compressed liquid. The other one, the thing, the super Terminator began to stalk toward them. Passing through the fog as the nitrogen returned to gas.

Its movements precise as ever slowly became jerky and awkward. One step, then another, ever slower. One more and the leg broke off. He kept coming even as the super-cooled liquid caused him to shatter and splinter until he finally froze.

The single blast from the Terminator had the thing shattering apart like glass. It was destroyed. It was over.

Dragging herself out of the car her reprieve was cut short by a cry from John. The metal was slowly reforming as the heat from the molten vats reached it. The thing molded back together slowly to form the cop it had been impersonating. She could barely walk, but was forced to run as both John and the machine practically carried her away.

The heat of the place became stifling. Sparks rained down. One path looked just like another. They had to get out.

Dead end.

It was getting closer.

The Terminator told them to run and she pulled a protesting John away.

They kept searching. The echo of gun shots. The bang of metal bodies being slammed against each other. The noise stopped.

Her efforts renewed to escape. Standing on a platform she spotted the thing approaching.

John was sent down a shaft yelling for her all the while. She couldn't go to him. Facing off against death itself.

_Bam_.

The first shot tore through its head. It wouldn't stop. She loaded another, again it didn't stop. Struggling to load again it grabbed her and pain ripped into her shoulder. Its finger became a knife and as she stared into its cold representation of eyes, it twisted the blade further.

"Call to John."

Fuck, no. She struggled, but its strength was no match. The blade sliced through more muscle.

"I know this hurts."

It did, but she wasn't going to give up her son. He was her world, their savior, her last piece of Kyle. What did this machine know about sacrifice? About pain? He had nothing on Bella.

Nothing.

It was an incompetent walking toaster that couldn't even kill a kid let alone know how to properly torture an unarmed woman. She had faced Bellatrix Black and walked away with her mind intact and without revealing a scrap of intel.

He could just bring it on.

Another hand was brought up to be pointed at her head, the threat was clear.

"Fuck you."

The pole cleaved into the thing's form. The Terminator tried for another swing, but the thing molded together trapping the weapon before swinging out at the machine. They rolled off the platform out of sight.

The crunch of metal reached her ears as the two continued to fight. Without it pinning her she slumped to the floor. Using the distraction she managed to reload, but couldn't move.

The sounds stopped. Then she heard her own voice.

Her blood ran cold. No-

Struggling to stand she followed the cries for John. There she stood. John spotted her expression torn. She gave the command. Her boy ran as she shot the thing. Before it could recover she pumped the gun to reload with her one good hand and let loose another round. It stumbled backward.

She let off another round. It took another step back. She kept going.

Another round.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Ag- The chamber was empty. The bullet holes reformed. They were going to die.

Not prepared to give up she grabbed John, preparing to flee. Then it arrived. The other Terminator.

It fired.

The projectile lodged itself into the things form. An expression of pure shock crossed its features and she shoved John to the deck. The explosion twisted and warped the thing in an unnatural display of violence.

It hung suspended over the molten pit below before finally toppling into the superheated metal.

It screeched and twisted as it curved over itself. Morphing. Shuddering. Contorting. Shrieking.

Dying.


End file.
